


we pick ourselves undone

by theweightofus



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Smut, Tumblr!AU, but just a little bit, harry is sad and can't sleep, i'm awful at writing tags, kind of, louis is lonely and can't sleep, louis writes on walls at night, sad!harry, there's death involved but it's not harry and louis i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 09:32:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweightofus/pseuds/theweightofus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“listen, why don’t you come home with me? i’ll make you cocoa, if you want”.<br/>harry looks at him, but doesn’t reply.<br/>“we don’t have to talk about this” louis adds quickly “and i’ll hold you tight”.<br/>he nods, after that.<br/> </p>
<p>au. louis can't sleep and writes on walls, harry's eyes are sad and there are two boys who might be just one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we pick ourselves undone

**Author's Note:**

> so, i'd had this idea for a lot of time and then i decided to finally write it. actually i had this on my laptop for a while and i'm finally posting it!  
> i want to dedicate this to rachele, because she's basically my only friend that knows about this account and i told her i would dedicate my next fic to her! hahah tvb rachele. :) hope you win the contest to meet one direction!
> 
> the title is from "flaws" by bastille
> 
> (i don't have a beta and i don't know english perfectly, so i'm sorry if there's any mistake in this!)

louis has always liked london at night.

it’s something strange for him – he’s always loved the sun, and the way people’s faces are so visible during the day, the way you can clearly see the smiles and laughs aren’t just a sound without source.

but nights are different. nights are what souls are made of, and nights are quiet and it feels like a secret, to be here without anyone knowing.

nights are for damaged people – no one is safe at night, they say, but louis has always thought it’s not like that. you just have to be careful.

no one asks you why you’re outside at night, unless you are a child or someone suspicious.

_you only show yourself when no one’s looking_

he takes a step behind and stares at the phrase he’s just written on the wall with a blue spray, and then puts the can back in his bag.

it’s something strange for him – being here alone, doing something that’s not allowed, and he doesn’t know why he doesn’t feel guilty, but his mother’s always told him to do what makes him happy; and maybe this doesn’t make him completely happy, but it’s worth it, he thinks, when he sees people reading what he wrote when the sun is in the sky.

*

he comes back home that night, and tosses his bag on the floor, taking off his shoes. maybe this is the perfect night, maybe today he will close his eyes and just fall asleep, on his small bed, some song he doesn’t remember the name of in the mind, and maybe he will wake up at seven a.m. with the sound of shriek of the children that live next to him.

he doesn’t know why he can’t sleep anymore – it’s started when he came back to London from his childhood home, and it was okay the first days, really, and then he stopped being able to sleep like normal people.

“maybe it’s because of greg, love, don’t you think it’s possible?” his mother told him when he explained the problem, but no, it can’t be possible, it’s been three fucking months. it’s not possible.

he sighs, when he realizes he won’t sleep tonight (or this morning, he should say) and switches on his laptop.

he knows he will regret this in class, but what’s the point in staring at the ceiling six hours straight?

he types in _imscaredofwhatillbecome.tumblr.com_ and then logs to his own account, and starts reading the most recent post that appears on the blog he’s been visiting every night for the last year.

_i’m at the end of the tunnel_

_and you’re on the last train_

_and i feel like_

_you’re going to run over me_

_but i’m okay_

_because this may mean_

_we’ll be together_

_soon_

he found this blog several months ago and he still doesn’t know what he loves so much about the words this person writes.

he suspects that’s a boy who writes, because he’s sure he has read a “boy” somewhere, and he could just ask him, or her, but he doesn’t even officially follow the blog – it would be strange.

he feels like there’s something about imscaredofwhatillbecome – like the boy is locked in a cage of sadness and just can’t (or doesn’t want to) go out of it.

he wants to tell the boy he would cuddle with him the entire night, if that meant he would be happy, and he would buy him the moon, and even the sun.

it’s something strange, even for louis, who always likes helping people and making them happy, but this boy is something strange, too, and louis desperately wants to find the lock’s key.

there’s another text post that has just appeared, and louis reads it with sad eyes, wondering if there’s a way to fix a heart that’s already broken.

_rain_

_reminds me_

_of what i used to be_

_when you were here._

when he glances at the window, he sees that it’s started raining outside.

*

it’s midnight and louis can’t sleep.

he walks through london, arms crossed and eyes searching for a clean, perfect wall.

he finds it, eventually.

it’s lighted up by a street lamp and he touches his bag, thinking “i found it”.

he walks toward it, thinking about the colours to use, and when he finally decides that this is a perfect night for black, he takes the can, shakes it and then starts writing.

_the moon envies you because you’re too pretty for her_

he takes a step behind, as usual, and stares at the phrase, as usual, and he’s thinking about the probabilities imscaredofwhatillbecome will see it, when someone suddenly talks.

“why do you think the moon is pretty?”

he turns his head to see who’s talking, hoping it’s not a cop or someone creepy, but the boy who’s standing behind him is anything but scary.

he’s tall, and thin, but with broad shoulders, and louis could probably see the muscles on his arms, if he wasn’t wearing a coat. two light green eyes are staring at him, and they are deep deep deep and louis is caught off guard for a moment, but then manages to reply.

“because she’s kinder that the sun”.

“the sun is not that bad. it makes us live” the man (boy? he can’t be more that nineteen) replies.

“yeah, but the sun doesn’t let you visit him, and you can’t look at the sun without getting hurt” louis explains.

it seems like the boy is thinking about it, staring at the wall with lost eyes, and lous just can’t not stare at him and the boy is pretty, very pretty.

“you’re very pretty” he blurts out, and then thinks ‘shit, no louis no no no’, but the boy doesn’t seem angry, or even surprised.

he just looks at louis with those deep, green eyes and – oh, louis thinks, they’re sad.

“i should go” he says, and starts walking away from louis, who still stares at him, until the boy turns his head toward louis and glances the last time on the sentence on the wall.

*

when he comes back home, there’s only one new text post:

_thick eyelashes_

_frame by frame_

_walls obscured_

_by the darkest shades_

_i wonder why_

_you kept staring at me_

_you should stare at the mirror_

_to see a beautiful thing._

*

it’s midnight, again, and louis can’t sleep.

he wanders through london’s streets, making sure to pass in front of yesterday’s wall, because he wonders if the curly-haired boy would still be there.

he’s there.

he’s wearing the same coat of yesterday and doesn’t say anything when he spots louis.

“hey” louis says, smiling a little, because there’s something in this boy, the same thing that louis finds reading _imscaredofwhatillbecome_ ’s posts.

he swears he sees a hint of smile on the boy’s face, but it’s just for a moment, and then nothing, the same sad expression.

“you’re here” the boy says, and louis nods.

“i’m louis, by the way”

“harry”

“harry is a nice name”

harry blushes immediately, and then “are you going to write something on a wall, tonight?”

louis shrugs. “only if i find the perfect wall”

harry looks at him, blinks, and doesn’t say anything in reply, so louis asks “do you want to come with me?” and harry slowly nods.

“well, let’s go! i don’t own the night” he exclaims, starting to walk, harry quickly beside him.

“what are you going to write?” harry says after some footsteps.

“what would you like me to write?” louis asks, stopping immediately, since he’s found the spot he’s going to write on.

“i don’t know” the other boy replies.

louis doesn’t say anything, just stares at the almost clean wall (there’s a female name written in red ink), thinking about what he could write.

_smiles make the earth happy_

he turns his head to harry, who’s reading the words silently.

then, harry looks at louis and his face splits up in a grin, and louis’s not sure if it’s fake or not, but.

he smiles, too.

*

_you smiled_

_and i swear_

_your eyes were gold_

*

greg was his sun and his moon, and he loved how free he felt with him. he remembers running, chased by him, bare feet and the sea’s wind on their faces and louis was so, so happy.

it began to crumble down when greg came home upset once, and louis tried to make him happy again but greg didn’t want to.

the fall had been so easy and fast louis doesn’t even remember it.

all he can think of is bitter words and screams full of hate, every night and every day, and louis knew the end was so close, but he didn’t want to admit it.

because greg was his sun and his moon, and greg meant a future and marriage, and kids and lunch with the families, and greg meant security and a long-term relationship that wasn’t supposed to end, not like that, not with so much hate and bad words and mouths dirty with each other’s tears.

he doesn’t know where greg is now – maybe he’s still working at the independent radio station, or maybe he’s changed job, he doesn’t know. but sometimes it feels like losing one another like that wasn’t the right thing to do.

losing one another without explanations is never the right thing to do, louis thinks.

*

“i think people are, you know, stuck with their routines. they don’t really live their life, and they’re so lost, even if everything’s so organized nowadays, but there’s the fact… it’s all so normal. what’s the fun in that?”

harry blinks, looks like he’s thinking about it.

“i think it’s easier” he replies after some seconds.

“yeah, but… i don’t want it easy. i want to decide my own life. and change my plans and be free”.

louis almost swears to have heard harry whispering “what if i’m not free”, but maybe it was the wind, maybe it was his own mind.

“is that why you’ve decided to move to london?” harry suddenly asks, and louis is a little surprised to find out that the boy has really listened to him rambling about his life before.

“sort of. well, i wanted to go to uni, and london looked like… the best place where you can be free”

harry nods. “yeah. i get it”.

“do you go to uni?” louis asks, realizing he doesn’t know anything about harry.

“i… took a free year” he replies “to sort things out, you know”.

no, louis doesn’t know, because he hates sorting things out, and facing his fears and his fucking insomnia.

but he can understands, because the boy next to him looks so broken that louis can’t imagine what happened to him – he wonders why the beautiful ones often have the worst experiences.

“everything’s going to be alright” he whispers in harry’s ear.

*

_i’m a bird_

_in a locked_

_birdcage,_

_is it bad?_

_to think_

_you may have the key_

*

harry is sad today, louis can tell.

he’s noticed it when he approached the boy before.

it’s not that harry is usually happy – harry is like a constantly sad soul in london’s streets – but today his shoulders look heavy, and his eyes are red from tears, and his glance is constantly directed to the pavement.

so louis writes

_why so sad?_ _L_

on the wall, and when he looks at harry, the boy lets himself fall on the floor without a word.

“harry, what’s wrong?” louis asks, walking toward harry and sitting in front of him.

“it’s so simple, to be with you” harry mumbles, and louis feels a lump in his throat.

“harry” he whispers, wants the boy to calm down, because harry’s already too sad.

“i’m with you what, a hour per night? and i always feel so good with you, but then a new day comes and i can’t. it’s so difficult, to pretend days are okay like nights are”.

then, he starts crying.

louis immediately hugs him tightly, and it’s the first time he touches the boy, and it causes a shiver on his spine, but right now he doesn’t want to think about it, because harry’s there and is crying, and louis can’t let him get more upset than he already is.

“it’s okay, love, it’s okay” he whispers in his ear, rubbing circles on his back, harry’s sobs loud like roars.

“i just want them back” harry says, with his face hidden in the space between louis’s shoulder and neck.

louis doesn’t ask who harry is referring to, he only replies “everything’s going to be alright”, hoping harry will believe him in the morning.

they stay like that for a while, until louis’s legs are frozen and he says “listen, why don’t you come home with me? i’ll make you cocoa, if you want”.

harry looks at him, but doesn’t reply.

“we don’t have to talk about this” louis adds quickly “and i’ll hold you tight”.

he nods, after that.

*

louis cuddles harry the entire night, and they fall asleep together at 3 a.m.

when louis wakes up, harry is gone.

*

_i don’t wanna die_

_i just want to know_

_how do you properly live_

*

_be brave enough to live_

“louis” harry calls, just after louis has finished writing. “do you think everyone can be happy?”

louis turns around and sees harry, standing behind him.

he’s learned how to read harry’s expression day by day – how to recognize the feeling that harry’s more inclines to in certain days.

he’s not sad, today – he’s thoughtful, and louis sometime thinks that’s why harry doesn’t sleep, because he thinks too much.

“do you mean, like, long-term happiness? or the little moments?”

the boy instantly replies “being happy for a long time, i mean”

“i think yes, yes, everyone can be happy, but maybe not everyone is lucky” he says, wishing he could be impulsive enough to ask harry why he isn’t happy, but he doesn’t, not now.

“and do you believe in love?” harry asks later “i mean, love forever. being with that one person ‘till death and never getting tired of them”.

he has to think more about it, because he had actually abandoned the idea of love destined to him for a lot of time, but maybe everyone deserves to love and be loved, he thinks.

“it’s rare” he replies, slowly “but it exists”.

“i’m scared of losing people i love” harry says, it’s almost a whisper, but louis listens. he always listens to harry. “i’m scared they’ll get tired of me, or just leave me, and maybe it will be so fast, or in the slowest way, and i just… i’m so scared, lou”

“harry” louis calls “harry, being scared is good, sometimes, but people come and leave, and you can’t do anything about it, just enjoy the moment, you know?”

they’re closer now, and harry is leaning toward louis, and their noses are almost touching, and louis doesn’t know if this is the right thing to do, but harry is here, and harry is real, and harry may be sad but no one can be sad forever.

they kiss, and it’s not a lot, nothing too forward, it’s gentle and sweet and louis would kiss harry all the time, even if harry’s lips are always bitten, but maybe, he thinks, maybe he could fix that. no one’s sad forever.

*

_your lips_

_are stones_

_that hold me_

_on earth._

*

it’s november now, and it’s been two weeks since their first kiss.

harry hugs louis tightly when he’s upset, and louis holds him because it feels like the right thing to do.

it’s seven p.m. and they’re at harry’s flat (the first time louis entered, he wondered how harry could own something like that with the pay he gets at the coffee shop, but he hasn’t asked anything. harry’ll tell him, one day) and it’s the first time they are seeing each other during the day.

it’s been just a coincidence, though: louis was coming back home and feeling the need of a tea, and he entered the first coffee shop he saw, without knowing harry worked there.

“who was your first kiss?” harry asks louis, while they’re watching friends.

“diana white, in eight grade” he answers. “it was a bet. who was yours?”.

“mary sue handking” harry replies. “slapped me on the face after that. i went home crying”, he chuckles. “and when did you understand you like boys?”

“when i kissed my best mate stanley. always had a big crush on him” louis replies, thinking silently about stan telling him that that kiss had been gross and he surely liked girls. “what about you?”

harry stays silent, his eyes lost in whatever he’s remembering, and louis doesn’t insist, he knows that some times harry needs time, not because he’s not clever, but there’s something broken in him, and whatever it is, his memories are  full of demons. “i realized at fourteen, when my sister introduced to me his best friend” he replies, eventually. “his name was dean and he was, you know, my little secret, and then he kissed me one day and the day after i ran to my mother telling her i probably was gay”.

louis smiles, imagining little fourteen-years-old harry blushing uncontrollably meeting his sister’s best friend. he realizes this is also the first time harry’s talked about his family – louis didn’t even know he had a sister.

“how are your sisters?” harry asks him, rubbing small circles with his thumb on louis’s wrist.

this isn’t the first time harry asks him about his family, though. it happened more than twice, and louis always replies happily, because he loves his family and he liked talking about it, even if he’s dying to know something about harry’s family.

“well, the oldest is lottie. she’s fifteen and she’s very girly, you know, she’s like the usual fifteen years-old, but she’s very kind. and a little shy, at first, but in a cute way, i think”.

“what about felicite?” harry asks, and louis is surprised to discover harry remembers her name.

“fizzy is very sassy and clever, and she’s still at that age when he doesn’t know how to dress, because her tastes aren’t defined, and she likes justin bieber. i was thinking about buying her his new cd, for christmas”.

“and the twins? how are they like?”

“they’re lovely, you’d like them. they’re exactly like me at that age, but daisy is always the quietest, and she always does what phoebe tells her to. phoebe is very bossy and likes barbie’s a lot, she’s obsessed, i swear” he concludes, looking at harry, who’s smiling fondly, and he decides that he could, he could ask him now.

“what’s your sister like?”

harry looks startled at first, but then gets extremely sad, and he stops moving his thumb, and his grip on louis’s wrist hesitates, but louis squeezes his hand in harry’s and “you don’t have to talk about it, love”.

harry shakes his head. he sighs. “no, you’ve asked me and you will get an answer”.

“okay”.

“her name is gemma and she’s very lovely with people who are kind to her. she wants to be a doctor and her favourite band are the script. she was the second person i came out to” he says “you’d like her”.

“i think so” louis replies.

*

_imscaredofwhatillbecome_ is in love, louis feels it. it’s like he knows him now, and he doesn’t know why, but sometimes he watches harry and he can imagine the boy sitting in his bed, typing sweet sad words that appears quickly on the computer screen, and then post them on tumblr, and he thinks it’s possible, that harry is the boy that writes on his favourite blog.

_build_

_a place_

_to live with me_

_i’ll be_

_everyday_

_at the doorstep_

_to hug you tight_

is what is written today, and after that there’s another text post, a simple sentence, and louis’s heart beats hard, reading a

_i think i’m falling in love with you._

_*_

they’re at louis’s flat and making out because it’s not the time for sleep, and harry’s lips are so soft and louis can’t stop, and it’s not a surprise when louis notices that harry is hard under his jeans.

he palms his erection quickly, whispering “fuck, you’re so beautiful” and harry groans and starts kissing louis’s neck.

harry makes louis lay on the couch, and maybe the bed would be more comfortable, but all he wants to do now is to fill harry completely. so, he unbuttons harry’s jeans, after shooting harry a glance to know if that’s okay, and harry replies taking off louis’s shirt. louis feels goose bumps on his skin and maybe it’s because he’s cold, but it’s nicer to think that it’s because of harry.

he takes off his own jeans and his pants and then they’re both naked, and louis runs to take his lube and his condoms, and harry kisses him another time, louis sucks at the boy’s bottom lip and he moans.

“louis” he breathes.

louis caresses harry’s cheek and tells him “you’re beautiful” because it feels like it’s never said enough.

louis opens the bottle and lubes his fingers, and then presses the first one of harry’s hole.

harry gasps at the contact, and louis presses the first finger inside and asks “is this okay?” and harry nods and then “another one”.

louis adds another finger, and then another one, and harry’s so pretty louis has to kiss him another time.

he moves his fingers a bit, making harry moan his name, and scissors them, and he loves how harry is whimpering and moaning.

louis slides his fingers out of harry and then puts the condom on.

“louis” harry whimpers, needy, and louis quickly replaces the fingers with his cock.

he looks at harry, give him time do adjust himself, and then harry is nodding and louis start thrusting inside of him in a slow rhythm.

“faster” harry says, with pleading eyes, and louis takes another rhythm and it’s worth it, because harry is moaning dirtily and he’s never been so beautiful.

they come together, moaning each other’s name, and then louis kisses harry again and tells him another time that he’s beautiful.

*

louis is so glad christmas is so important, because christmas lights are so lovely, and it doesn’t feel like they’re a waste of electricity, because they light up london’s streets at night, and they make harry grins like a baby.

“what’s your favourite christmas film?” harry asks, staring at the lights above them.

“i think… i think it’s ‘miracle on 34th street’, or ‘home alone’. what’s yours?”

“love actually” he replies. “during winter holiday, my family and i used to watch all the best christmas movies”.

this is one of the last nights they’re spending together before january, because louis is driving to doncaster to spend christmas with his family in three days, and he’s not coming back ‘till new year. he’s going to tell harry tonight, and he’s not very sure how he’s going to sleep at least two hours without the curly-haired boy at his side.

“what are you doing on christmas day?” he asks, squeezing harry’s hand gently, silently asking the boy to look at him.

harry looks at louis. “nothing” “nothing?” “i’m staying in london”.

“you can’t, harry” louis replies. “it’s christmas! you should never spend christmas alone”

harry shrugs. “i don’t have anyone to go to” he whispers and louis thinks ‘oh’.

“why don’t you come with me to doncaster? my mother wouldn’t mind” he says.

harry shots him a look. “i don’t want to be a burden, louis”.

“you’re not, harry, don’t be stupid” louis says “it would make me happy”.

harry gulps, but then nods. “okay. just promise me you don’t mind”.

“i swear” louis whispers, and then kisses him.

*

_we’re made of gold_

_right now_

_your lips_

_on mine_

_christmas lights_

_everywhere._

_making you_

_smile_

_is what i live for._

*

“louis” harry says “what are we?”

they’re stuck at a traffic light, on the car, and louis is tapping silently on the drive wheel when harry asks him that question.

“what do you want us to be?” he replies, looking at harry.

they kiss, a lot. they have sex, sometimes, when they’re bored or when they’re thirsty, or when they just want to touch each other, but they have never really talked out it – about what they really are, together.

“i want me and you” harry says. “but, i mean, what does your mom think we are?”

he shrugs. “i told her you are someone very important to me. but if you want to, you can be my boyfriend”.

harry beams at that, no, harry glows, and louis would kiss him, if the driver behind them didn’t honk and scream to start driving.

“i want to” harry says “to be your boyfriend. i want it”.

this time it’s louis’s turn to glow.

*

_i feel like_

_being near you_

_is the closest_

_i will ever get_

_to the sun._

*

jay loves harry, and so do the girls.

the twins like to play with his curls and fizzy says he’s fit, while lottie watches him silently and then tells louis she approves.

louis has never seen harry being so happy – sure, he’s only knows him for two months, but it’s like they’ve been together since they were born.

it’s something strange – it’s easy for louis to stay with people, but it takes a lot of time for him to fall in love with someone.

but he looks at harry and everything’s here – the butterflies, the smile that spreads across his face, the happiness when he saw how his family likes harry.

fizzy is telling harry some old embarrassing story about louis, when his mother asks louis to follow her into the kitchen to help her with dinner. louis knows she doesn’t really want help – he’s rubbish as cooking – but he goes with her anyway.

“i like him” jay says, smiling softly. “he seems right for you”.

louis nods, knowing there’s something else.

“how did you two meet?” she aks.

“at night. we both have problems with sleep” he answers, briefly.

jay nods.

“they’re not so worrying, with him” louis adds, and his mother smiles a little.

“doesn’t he have a family to spend christmas with?” jay asks, keeping her voice tone low “not that i don’t want him here, but… he’s just nineteen. doesn’t he miss his mom?”

louis sighs. “i don’t know what’s up with his family. i don’t know a lot about his mother, not even her name, but… i don’t know. i’ve never investigated. if he wants to tell me, he will”.

“i’m sure he will, boo” jay says, and then hugs him tightly. “he deserves you” she whispers. “and you deserve him”.

*

it happens at night

they’re in louis’s old bedroom, which is fizzy’s (that is sleeping with lottie) now, and they should close the eyes and try to sleep, but harry likes listening to louis talking, he says, and it’s not even midnight, and they’re here, now, together, and it feels right.

“louis” harry suddenly whispers in the dark.

“yeah?” louis replies, looking for harry’s hand. when he finds it, he takes it and squeezes gently. it feels a lot like saying ‘i’m here’.

“do you know why you can’t, or, you know, couldn’t sleep?” harry asks, his voice deeper than usual.

“i think… i broke up with greg, and i thought, like, that he would be my husband one day and everything, but it ended up really badly” he replies “that’s why, perhaps”.

he doesn’t add “what about you?” because it doesn’t feel right, now, he needs harry to open with him, but he doesn’t want to pressure him.

it’s something strange for him – he’s usually a curious person and he often asks questions that he really shouldn’t even think about.

but harry is not anyone. harry’s right here and louis desperately wants to tell him that he loves him, but that’s not the right moment – he can wait.

“when i first started not to sleep, it was because i actually didn’t want to” the other boy says, suddenly.

“what do you mean?”

“i hated sleeping, because sleep meant dreams. and i hated dreams” harry explains.

this is the moment, louis thinks, and he stays silent, lets harry talk.

“my family died” harry says and

fuck, louis thinks.

“they – my mom, my sister and my step-dad – were driving to london to visit me and they had an accident”

“when did this happen?” louis asks.

“this summer” harry says, and then he starts crying.

louis immediately hugs him and whispers “it’s okay, love, everything’s going to be alright”, the way he’s used to, and he’s not doing it because he wants harry to stop crying, because harry actually needs to cry, louis knows it, but the boy’s so fragile right now that the idea of letting sobs being the only sound in the darkness scares louis.

“you’re so beautiful, harry, and i’m here, i’m here, you have me now, don’t be sad” he keeps repeating, hoping harry believes him.

“i feel guilty” harry says “and dreams remind me of that”.

“it’s not your fault, love, it’s not, you haven’t done anything, please don’t feel guilty” louis replies. he feels like it’s not enough, he wants to hold harry forever.

harry falls asleep, eventually, when he doesn’t have anymore tears  and louis’s said too many words.

“you’re so beautiful” he whispers to an asleep harry, before closing his eyes.

*

_i was_

_scared_

_of falling asleep_

_but now that you’re here_

_i dream about you_

_and nights_

_are not sad anymore_

*

louis’s birthday is on christmas eve, and harry wakes him up with a kiss on the lips.

“hey, love” louis says, smiling softly.

“good morning” harry replies.

“how do you feel?”

harry sighs, but then smiles and says “i’m okay. i’m glad you know, now”.

louis nods. “and i’m glad you told me”

then there’s a knock and his family enters in the room, his mom with a cake in the hands, everyone singing happy birthday. harry looks at him and grins, exclaims “you didn’t tell me it’d be your birthday today!” and then gets off the bed to let louis have his moment of glory.

after blowing out the candles and eating a piece of cake, jay and the girls disappear and it’s just louis and harry.

“you’re twenty-two now. it’s a lot” harry says, giving him an eskimo kiss.

“you’re the one who’s young, love” louis replies, kissing him on the cheek.

“hey, louis” harry says, then.

“yeah?”

“do you want to meet my family tomorrow?”

*

it’s five a.m. on the 25th of december, and it’s snowing in holmes chapel.

they’re walking hand in hand in the cemetery, looking for three similar tombstones, and louis regularly squeezes harry’s hand to keep the boy calm. “it’s okay” is what louis is silently telling him.

they find them, eventually.

they’re all white and simple, with the name, the birth and death dates and a little sentence at the end. harry stops in front of his mother’s, and louis squeezes his hand one last time.

“hey, mum” harry begins, with clear nervousness in his voice. “i came, eventually, do you see? i couldn’t not tell you merry christmas. i’m sorry i’m not here as often as i should, but it’s been difficult, and i… i didn’t know hot face all.”

harry quickly gives louis a glance, and louis just smiles softly. “you’re doing well, love” is what louis is silently telling him.

“i took a free year from uni because i felt like i couldn’t do everything, but i think i’ll be back, next year” he takes a deep breath “i took louis with me because he’s always been here. you would all like him. he’s helped me a lot. and i think i love him” now harry watches louis, who squeezes his hand gently. “i love you, too” is what louis is silently telling him. it’s just that he feels like spoken words are too much, right now.

harry tells his family everything, and louis listens, stays quiet. the snow if falling on their bodies and it’s freezing, but it’s okay, and louis’s hand is sweaty and harry’s eyes aren’t wet, and it’s perfect.

*

“louis” harry whispers later that day, when they’re both in bed.

“yeah, love?”

“i haven’t shown you your christmas present” harry replies, getting up.

“oh. i didn’t want anything, harry” louis says.

“but this is important” the boy tells him, turning on his laptop. “i want you to know”.

louis gets off the bed and walks close to harry, hugs him from behind and kisses his neck.

harry goes on tumblr, and then logs in. the blue dashboard appears immediately, and then harry goes on his blog and

_fuck_

it’s _imscaredofwhatillbecome_ , and louis holds harry tightly, but they both don’t say anything.

there’s a new poem on the page, and harry reads it aloud because louis’s eyes are full of tears, and he can’t see anything.

“harry” louis says after, taking harry’s hand in his. “i’m so in love with you”.

the other boy replies “i’m in love with you, too” and louis swears they’re glowing like the sun, right now.

*

_write about me sometimes_

_every red letters_

_will make me bleed_

_and the blue of the o’s_

_is the colour of your eyes_

_maybe green_

_could mean mine_

_yellow_

_is what your soul looks like_

_because you’re the sunshine_

_and i can’t imagine_

_a night without sun_

_anymore._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr: http://lou-eee.tumblr.com  
> (or http://no-way-to-reach-me.tumblr.com )


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